Page 43 of The Forbidden Lord
She’d sent her acceptance at once, of course. She wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity. Still, the invitation intrigued her, coming from a man who proclaimed to be more interested in her cousin than in her. Tucking the card in her reticule, she walked over to where Lady Dundee stood in the foyer, choosing a cloak from among several that Carter, the butler, held up before her.
“Perhaps Lord St. Clair just intends this to be a friendly outing,” Emily said.
Lady Dundee raised her eyebrows. “Yes, and perhaps goblins truly do exist. St. Clair intends something more than a friendly outing, I assure you.”
“He certainly does.” Lord Nesfield had been watching them from his seat by the foyer table, his lorgnette bobbing back and forth as they talked. Now he scowled through it at Carter. “Lady Dundee can handle that herself. I will call you if we need you.”
They kept their silence while Carter walked away. The servants didn’t know about Emily’s masquerade, because neither the countess nor the marquess trusted them with the knowledge. Having never met Lady Dundee or her children, the servants had accepted Emily as the countess’s daughter without question.
Lady Dundee had even concocted a story to allow Emily to receive letters from her father without arousing suspicion. She’d told them that Emily, an expected guest, was traveling extensively before coming to London, and that they were holding her mail for her. That had allowed Emily to answer her father’s letters without alerting him to what was going on. All the subterfuge, however, made it difficult to talk when the servants were around.
As soon as Carter was out of sight, Lord Nesfield said, “The other night when St. Clair was here he questioned the servants about Sophie most thoroughly. I nearly revealed myself, I was sosure he was our man.” He sighed. “But then he left without so much as trying to bribe them to let him see her. I swear, I wish I knew what that scoundrel was about.”
“We’ll find out today,” Lady Dundee said.
“I do not see how,” he grumbled. “With you hovering about, he is not likely to say anything to Miss Fairchild. Let the chit go alone with him. She will find out more that way.”
“Randolph, I’m ashamed of you!” Lady Dundee picked up a snowy lace pelisse and handed it to Emily. “You would never send your own daughter on an outing unchaperoned. Have you no notions of decency?”
He scowled. “As if anything about this outing is decent. He is taking her to see the marbles, for God’s sake. Matters have come to quite a pass when a young man thinks that showing a young lady scandalous Greek art is the proper way to court her. I do not see what one more indiscretion will hurt.”
“That’s because you have peculiar notions about propriety.” The countess snorted. “Letting a young woman see great works of art is scandalous; letting her risk her virtue is not.”
“If you really want a chaperone, why not send Hannah?” Hannah was the lady’s maid they’d hired for Emily. “She is a timid sort. She will not prevent him from speaking to Miss Fairchild in private.”
“That’s precisely what I’m afraid of,” Lady Dundee muttered under her breath as she chose a parasol for herself.
“What? What’s that?” the marquess asked, peering through his lorgnette.
“Nothing.” Lady Dundee winked at Emily. “You mustn’t fret. We’ll gain Emily a few minutes alone with the man. It’ll suffice, I’m sure. With any luck, we can eliminate St. Clair as a suspect and focus on Mr. Pollock. After Lady Astramont’s breakfast, Emily and I both believe Pollock quite capable of running off with Sophie. He does stand to gain the most by marrying her.”
“Do not forget Blackmore,” Lord Nesfield put in. “He is a suspect as well.”
Lady Dundee paused in her search through the parasols. “At first I thought that was a silly idea; now I’m not so sure. Hehasbeen hovering about Emily a great deal. I suppose we should consider him a possibility.” She glanced at Emily. “Did he say anything to you at Lady Astramont’s breakfast, my dear? Ask you about Sophie?”
“We had no chance to be alone, I’m afraid,” she said truthfully, praying that Lady Dundee hadn’t heard about her public refusal to walk with him. She’d considered telling Lady Dundee about Jordan’s suspicions, but now feared it would only prompt Lady Dundee to end the masquerade and spark Lord Nesfield’s anger. No, she would have to weather this alone.
Lady Dundee chose a parasol. “A pity you couldn’t speak to him. Oh, well, there will be other chances.”
That’s what Emily was afraid of. Even this outing worried her. After all, Lord St. Clair and Jordan were friends. Lord St. Clair might have invited her only so he could question her on Jordan’s behalf.
But what if Jordan were the very one they sought? Despite Lord Nesfield’s silly theory, she hadn’t dismissed the possibility that Jordan might have cared for Sophie, and the only way to determine that was to speak to him alone.
At the sound of horses clopping along the pebbled drive outside, then halting, Lady Dundee pushed Emily toward the parlor. “Quick, my dear, go in there. It won’t look good to have you standing about waiting for St. Clair. Randolph, you must disappear. You don’t want to scare the man off, do you? Oh, where has my reticule disappeared to? I swear, sometimes I think these bits of cloth are sewn small purposely to thwart me! Carter, come here!”
As Lord Nesfield limped off down the hall, Emily wandered into the parlor. She wished she’d thought to make a fortifying tincture for herself. She needed one today.
Lady Dundee hurried into the parlor, and shortly afterward they both heard the opening of the entrance door and a murmur of male voices in the hall. Then Carter entered and announced Lord St. Clair.
As soon as the viscount came in, he cast Emily a warm smile. He really was a charming man most of the time, even if he occasionally disquieted her. With his black hair and blacker eyes, he reminded her of a panther she’d seen in a book, all sleek and quiet and deadly.
Today, however, he was quite friendly. The requisite greetings were made, the polite bows and curtsies. Lord St. Clair didn’t even seem to flinch when Lady Dundee announced her intention to join them on the outing.
“So I have not one, but two lovely ladies to squire about. A fine day it will be indeed.” He rubbed his hands together. “Well, are you ready to see the marbles?”
At their murmurs of assent, he offered them his arms and accompanied them to the front door. As they began to descend the stairs, Emily glanced down and spotted Jordan, standing beside the carriage—hiscarriage.
She halted abruptly. Wearing a chocolate-brown frock coat and form-fitting tan trousers, he looked casual, confident, and handsome as always. His eyes were on her, full of smug challenge. As her heart began to beat a wild and foolish tattoo, she dug her fingers into Lord St. Clair’s arm.
